


Whenever, Wherever, Together

by Lunavere



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Crack, Fluff, M/M, OctoJohn, Starjohn, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:04:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 8,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1299265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunavere/pseuds/Lunavere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My small amount of Johnlock Tumblr prompts and ficlets.  Summaries will be found at the beginning of each chapter.  Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. OctoJohn: The Pilot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OctoJohn and Sherlock Holmes meet for the first time.

It was only upon returning from Baskervilles that Sherlock realised something was amiss.  It was curious that he managed to miss something so obvious, but he figured that he must have merely been too absorbed in the case.  Besides, it was tiny enough.  How should he have noticed something so small in his scarf?

If nothing else, it was a curious creature.  The lower extremities were that of an octopus, but its upper torso was that of a human.  Male, to be precise.  Golden blond hair.  It seemed that the scientists at Baskervilles were going much further than glow-in-the-dark bunnies.

It was sleeping when he found it curled up in the folds of his scarf.  Its tentacles blended in, its chromatophores having activated in order to keep it hidden.  Defense mechanism.  It must have been worried about being caught.  And going by the fact that it managed to wiggle its way into Sherlock’s scarf with no one noticing - not even Sherlock himself - it must have tried to escape before.

Unwrapping his scarf, Sherlock used it as a hammock as he gingerly set the sleeping creature onto the counter.  It was teacup size.  Pale, meaning it wasn’t used to being out in the sun.  Dry.  It hasn’t been in water for the last 14 hours at least, meaning it had hitched a ride upon Sherlock’s final visit.  Probably not a state good for its lower extremities, but if it was causing the creature pain, Sherlock was sure it would be awake.

Suddenly, the creature’s eyes blinked open, blue as the ocean, and it let out a tiny squeak of fear.  It scrambled backwards, its tentacles causing it to move much faster than Sherlock thought possible.  The colours of the tentacles fluctuated and transformed into the tell-tale warning colours of the blue-ringed octopus.  Before Sherlock could even react, the creature went over the edge of the sink and let out a horrified shriek as it fell.

Amused, Sherlock looked down into the sink.  ”I’m not going to hurt you.  And if you thought I was, you shouldn’t have hitched a ride my scarf.”  He examined the rings.  ”Are you actually poisonous?”

The little creature looked down at its tentacles.  ”No.  But I can squirt ink!”  He grinned up at Sherlock, obviously proud of that fact.

Sherlock reached one hand down into the sink.  ”Do you have a name?”

"No.  Do you?"

"Sherlock Holmes."

The creature chuckled.  ”Sherlock.  That’s a funny name.”

Sherlock pressed his lips together in distaste before deleting the reaction from his memory.  Suddenly, he felt a tentacle wrap around his pinkie.  The creature shifted up into the palm of Sherlock’s hand, its tentacles spilling over the sides.  Sherlock brought his other hand down in order to cradle it comfortably.

Lifting it up, he hummed thoughtfully.  ”We should give you a name,” he stated.

"If that is what you want…  But do you happen to have any water?"

Sherlock nodded.  ”Hot or cold?”

"I have a choice?" it inquired.

Although he was caught by surprise, Sherlock masked it expertly.  Of course.  An experiment didn’t get options.  An experiment was dictated by the experimenter.  Variables had to be taken into account.  The opinion of the subject hardly mattered to scientists.

"You have a choice."

"Hot!" it exclaimed, its tentacles writhing and wiggling excitedly, the suction cups sticking to and popping up from Sherlock’s skin.  It tickled, and Sherlock nearly dropped the little thing.

"Alright.  Let me get the kettle going."  He pressed the back of his hands to the countertop, letting it slide off.  After he put the kettle on, he fetched his laptop and started to search for boy names.  The creature wiggled over before pulling itself onto the back of his hand and latching onto it as Sherlock scrolled through page after page.  "What do you think of Alexander?"

"I don’t like it.  It’s too long."

"We could call you Alex for short."

Making a face of disgust, the creature shook its head.

"Alright.  Shorter names.  Stop me when I say something that sounds good to you."  Sherlock began to scroll through some more.  "Sam?  Rob?  Rick?  Will?  Harry?  Luke?  Tim?  Tom?  Ben?  John?"

"I like that one!"

"John?  You like John?"

"Yes.  Call me that.  Call me John."

Just then, the kettle went off.  Sherlock retrieved two mugs with his John-free hand and set them down before pouring the hot water into them.  He plopped a teabag into one before grabbing a thermometer for the other mug.  After checking that it wouldn’t be too hot, he shifted his other hand over.

John tentatively reached down with one tentacle.  It touched the surface of the water and retracted in a flash before slowly lowering down again.  Shifting forward, John slipped into the mug with a happy sigh.  Water slopped onto the counter as John made himself comfortable, tiny tentacles sticking out of the water and over the rim of the mug.

Bringing his own mug to his lips, Sherlock hid a smile.  Yes.  This would work out just fine.


	2. OctoJohn: Hidden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OctoJohn comes to understand the importance of staying out of sight.

"John, who is allowed to see you?" Sherlock pressed.

"No one besides you," John answered.

"And what do you do when someone comes to the flat?"

John began to fiddle with one of his tentacles.  ”I hide.  Preferably in the closest cup to me.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Sherlock nodded.  Lately, Mycroft had been checking up on him more often.  And without warning.  He knew that Mycroft suspected him, especially after the last visit when they talked about an escaped experiment from Baskervilles.  Although he would never admit it aloud, Sherlock became attached to the little critter, and he wasn’t about to let his brother take John away.

"Could I maybe take a swim in the bathtub tonight?" John inquired as Sherlock poured two cups of hot water.

"If we get this case solved then yes."

Sherlock brought over a cup of hot water to John, setting it down on the coffee table.  John had become much more adept at getting into a large mug on his own.  Little tentacles wrapped around the handle of the mug, and John hoisted himself up onto the lower section.  He then got up onto the tips of two of his tentacles, which were carefully suctioned to the bottom of the handle, and stretched his arms up.  Once they hooked around the top of the handle, John used the suction cups on the bottom of his tentacles to shift them up the side.  He then pulled himself up once enough weight was off his upper torso.  As soon as he was on the top of the handle, he scrambled head-first into the warm water.

Not even a drop spilled over.  Sherlock had finally figured out the proper amount of water to add to a mug without John displacing too much of it.  It was one of the few things that Sherlock committed to memory.

Popping his head above the surface of the water, John slipped over to the edge and peered over the rim of the cup.

"Don’t get anything wet," Sherlock warned as he sat back down.  He examined several different papers, shifting them around as his mind tried to work the pieces together, connect the dots, and draw the proper conclusion.

"Sherlock?"

"Not now, John," Sherlock snapped.  "I need to think."

John sank a bit lower in the cup.  ”I know, but… well… did you ever think that-“

"Probably."

Frowning, John slipped further down into the mug and began to blow bubbles.  Sherlock closed his eyes, images and words flashing in his mind.  This wasn’t an accident.  He knew it.  Proving it, though, was more difficult than it should have been.  After all, the immediate family had no motive.  No major inheritance.  No life insurance.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock sucked in a sharp breath and glared at John.  ”What?”

"I noticed something in one of the interviews…"

Immediately, Sherlock reached a hand over.  They had created a system.  John crawled onto Sherlock’s right hand and tapped his ring finger with a tentacle.  Forward and to the left.  Sherlock slowly moved his hand over until John tapped his palm twice.  Stopping, he reached down with his free hand and pulled out the interview of the daughter.

"What is it?" Sherlock inquired, reclining with John in his hand.

John shifted over a bit and tapped towards the bottom of the page.  ”Here.  Her girlfriend.  She only mentions her right here, but… well… it just… I don’t know.”

However, Sherlock didn’t hear the rest of John’s statement.  Instead, his mind whirled and flooded with information.  He quickly began to search through the papers, his free hand tossing the unnecessary bits out of the way.

The girlfriend, of course, the girlfriend.  How could he have missed that before?  A disgraced daughter about to be thrown out of the family because her girlfriend wasn’t posh enough.  She didn’t come from good breeding.  That would lead to some animosity, especially if the girlfriend had been rejected before for such reasons.  Reaching over, he fished out his mobile.

"Sherlock!" John hissed, wiggling about nervously in his hand.

"Not right now!" Sherlock answered as he began to type with one thumb.

"Sherlock!"

"Shut. up!"

Suddenly, the door to the flat opened.  Holding a tray, Mrs Hudson took a step in and looked up.  Her eyes locked on John, and she jolted with a gasp.  Her grip fastened onto the tray, her knuckles turning white.

"Does she count as someone?" John whispered, looking guilty.

"Yes."

Sherlock stared at Mrs Hudson, judging what he needed to do next.  In shock, going by her lack of reaction.  Scared, obvious by her clenched hands.  Eyes wide - disbelief.  But no tremble to her hands, meaning she wasn’t overly afraid of John.

"Mrs Hudson," Sherlock greeted.

Mrs Hudson’s eyes flickered up to Sherlock.  ”I brought you up some supper, dear,” she said before setting the tray on the counter.  ”You better get him an aquarium before the week is through.  I won’t have you neglecting him now.”

John’s eyes widened and shone with excitement.  ”My name’s John!” he called out, scrambling across Sherlock’s arm.  He could feel the suction cups rapidly attach and disconnect from his skin, causing him to giggle despite himself.  Quickly, he stifled his laughter as John flopped down onto the table.

"Are you alright, dear?" Mrs Hudson inquired.

John shook his head and blinked a few times.  ”Y-yes.  I am.”  His little tentacles scrambled across the table as he tried to get closer to Mrs Hudson.  Holding out a little hand, John smiled.  ”It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Hudson.”

Mrs Hudson paused for a moment before smiling.  She reached down and shook John’s hand as best she could.  ”I would have fixed something for you as well if I had known you were here.”

"Oh, it’s okay.  I don’t require a lot of food!" John chirped, his colours changing to match Mrs Hudson’s red shirt.  Sherlock knew by now that John mimicking someone’s colour meant he liked that person.  After all, he had done it for plenty of characters on the telly.  "I eat what Sherlock doesn’t."

"Well, that’s good," Mrs Hudson murmured before looking up at Sherlock.  "He’s a sweet thing.  You better take care of him, or we will have words, young man."

Sherlock clicked his tongue dismissively as he buried his nose in his mobile.  As if he would forget to take care of John.  ”Yes, yes, Mrs Hudson.  Very good.  Thank you.”

"You ever need something, love, you feel free to get my attention," Mrs Hudson informed John before heading towards the door.  "Aquarium.  Remember that, Sherlock.  He better have one by the end of the week or you’re in violation of the no pets contract."  With that, she headed downstairs.

"I’m not a pet!" John objected, crossing his arms in anger.

Sherlock sent a text before lowering his hand.  Instinctively, John scramble onto it.  Getting up, Sherlock headed over to the tray and set John down next to it.  ”Eat up because when Lestrade messages me, we’re going to have to go.”

John hefted a pea up with two of his tentacles and carefully cracked it open.  Reaching in with one hand, he scooped out the middle and ate it carefully. Making a face after the first bite, John put the pea off to the side before scramble to a new section of the plate.

Sherlock fought a smile before getting out his laptop and beginning to examine different types of aquariums.  After all, John deserved the best.


	3. OctoJohn: The Skull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When John doesn't want to get left behind, Sherlock and he try a method to bring him along for the ride.

"But I want to come with," John insisted.

Sherlock had just received the text he was waiting for, and he was in a rush to get out the door.  ”I told you - you can’t be seen by anyone.  Not everyone is as kind as Mrs Hudson.”

"What if I hid?" John inquired.

Sherlock turned.  ”And where exactly do you plan to hide?”

John blinked before pointing at the skull.  ”In there.”

Surprised, Sherlock stared at it.  Technically, there would be enough room, and he had been using it beforehand.  Pausing a moment, Sherlock tilted his head to the side.  Why _had_  he stopped bringing the skull along?  After a quick search of his mind palace, Sherlock came to the conclusion that he must have deleted the information.  Unimportant then.

"Only if you can fit inside comfortably," Sherlock answered before grabbing the skull and bringing it over to John.  John gripped the hole with his tiny hands and hoisted himself inside.  Sherlock could hear him scurry about.  "And?"

John poked his head out from the other eye socket.  ”I fit perfectly!”

Sherlock fought back a smile.  ”Fine then.  You can come with.”

"Yay!"  John immediately slipped back into the skull.

"But you mustn’t speak to me, John.  The last thing I require is explaining to anyone how my skull manages to talk back," Sherlock instructed.

John answered, “No talking.  Got it!”

Sherlock held the skull in one hand before thundering down the stairs.

"Sherlock?" Mrs Hudson called out.  She came rushing out of her flat - a hand on her sore hip, meaning she hadn’t taken her "herbal soothers" yet.  "Do you need me to take care of John?"

"No, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock replied.

"Are you sure?  Because if you don’t come home-"

"Positive, Mrs Hudson!"  With that, Sherlock turned around and held up his skull.  "He’s not upstairs."

Obviously startled, Mrs Hudson nodded.  ”Well, you watch out for him, you hear?  And don’t forget about the aquarium!”

"I’ve already ordered it."

Without another word, Sherlock exited 221b and immediately turned left down the street.  A Tube stop was just over a block from his flat, but he honestly hated taking the Tube.  It was riddled with berks.  Besides, he needed to reduce the amount of people who could possibly see John, should something happen.

Hailing a cab, he slid inside and ordered it to go to New Scotland Yard.  He held the skull up and turned it to face him.  Out of the darkness, John tentatively peered out of an eye socket and waved at Sherlock.

"In order for the girlfriend to have done it, she would have needed help," Sherlock muttered, looking at John.  "The daughter has an alibi confirmed by CCTV video, so it couldn’t have been her."  Sherlock pressed his lips together in a fine line.  "A girl like her - she probably wouldn’t have many friends.  Not if the rejection affected her so profoundly.  And if one was going to kill someone, they would have to rely on someone who they could trust entirely.  Someone who would understand…"  Sherlock’s brows furrowed.  Who could she have relied on?  Not many friends - and the daughter would have been the closest person to her.

John started to flail his arms, causing Sherlock to look down at him.  He began to mime something.  Despite his attempts, Sherlock couldn’t make heads or tails of the quick movements.  Bringing the skull up closer, he stared at John.

"Whisper," he murmured, glancing up at the cabbie.

"A brother or sister!" John hissed, patting the bottom of the eye socket excitedly.

Eyes lighting up, Sherlock murmured, “Oh… of course.  Brilliant!  Clever.  Very… clever…”

As soon as they arrived at NSY, Sherlock paid the cabbie before ordering him to stay.  He sprinted into the building.  Shifting through it, he used Lestrade’s ID card to open up most of the doors.  He then got to Lestrade’s office and tucked the skull under his arm before picking the lock.  Opening the door, he set the skull onto the desk and began to shift through the papers.  All the information he needed should be right there.  Skimming over the pages, he quickly located the name of the girlfriend.  Sarah Greening.

He sat down at Lestrade’s computer and hacked into it before searching for her information in the database.  Meanwhile, John sat in the eye socket, reaching down with one tentacle and attaching his suction cups to a paper before lifting it up slightly.  Smirking, Sherlock turned back to the computer once the information came up.  He read it - reread it - and committed it to memory.  He then shifted through the information and discovered that she did, indeed, have a brother.  Two years younger than her.  Mother died when they were only children.

"In the skull," he ordered, waiting only a second before lifting it back up.  Luckily, John had slipped back inside.

Putting everything back in order, Sherlock slipped out of the room and hurried outside to find the cab gone.  Brilliant.  Groaning, he hurried down the road before finally managing to hail a taxi.  He gave the address and sat back.

"It all makes sense," he murmured, setting the skull on his lap.  He retrieved his phone and began to text Lestrade.  "Mother dies when they are young.  He’s never known what it’s like to have a mother, so he takes the next best thing - his sister.  He respects her, loves her like he would a mother, and would want to do anything for her.  So she approaches him with a plan.  He would have jumped at the chance to prove his loyalty.  To play a larger role in the family."

John watched him from the skull, nodding as he listened.  Sending the text, Sherlock arrived at the Greening’s residency.  He paid the cab driver and picked up the skull before getting out.  Walking around the building, Sherlock scanned for every entrance and exit.

Just as he turned the corner to return to the front, Lestrade pulled up.  ”You sure this is our culprit?”

"Yes.  Question Sarah Greening’s brother, and he’ll probably spill everything if you tell him how much trouble his sister is in," Sherlock answered.  "Once you have them in custody, I’ll explain everything."

Nodding, Lestrade headed in.  Sherlock rolled his eyes and went around back once more.  Waiting there, he heard shouting and then the thumping footsteps on the fire escape.  How predictable.  Heading forward, Sherlock planned his takedown.

And then the kid did something that he wasn’t expecting.  He jumped into the garbage bin.  Leaping forward, Sherlock began his pursuit as the kid struggled to hop out and took off down the alley.  As he ran, he remembered why he hated taking the skull with him - it was cumbersome.  It felt awkward to run with a skull in one hand.  Or tucked under an arm.  Or anywhere at all.  This just wouldn’t do.

Turning the corner, Sherlock gained ground, his longer legs proving vital.  The boy’s adrenaline would fade soon as well, and then he would be done for.  Just as Sherlock predicted, the kid began to slow down, and Sherlock gripped the back of his jacket and yanked him back, tripping him.  An officer wasn’t too far behind, and he quickly caught up before arresting the boy.

Panting, Sherlock desperately tried to catch his breath.  As soon as Lestrade was there, he explained everything that happened - including how Greening children pulled off the crime - before he flagged down a cab and went home.

Once upstairs, Sherlock laughed.  ”That was something else, wasn’t it, John?”

There was no response.  It was only then that Sherlock realised that John hadn’t even shown himself in the car.  Panicking, Sherlock tipped the skull.  John slipped out onto his hand.  Unconscious.  Sherlock’s heart sank.

"No.  No, no, no, no, no, no, no," he whispered as he cradled John against his chest.  He was probably concussed.  Immediately, Sherlock’s mind began to whirl as he ensured that John was flat on his back.

What to do?  Who to call?  Hurrying to his laptop, he began to research what he needed to do.  Suddenly, he heard a small cough.  He looked down to find John blinking his eyes open.  Tension in his neck.  Headache.  Clouded eyes.  Confusion.  But he was awake, and that’s all that mattered.  Sherlock’s heart soared.

"I don’t like the skull," John murmured as he rested in Sherlock’s hand.

"I’ll figure something else out.  Promise."


	4. OctoJohn: Aquarium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OctoJohn gets his own aquarium at 221b.

"I want to get in!  Let me in!" John called out as he scrambled across Sherlock’s hand.

"Not yet," Sherlock responded, catching John before he could drop into the aquarium.  Crossing his arms, John pouted, his colour flushing to a bright red.  Sherlock held him close.  ”We haven’t put in anything except the water.”

"Well, what else is is supposed to go in there?" John pressed, tilting his head.  His colour rippled, flashing purple before returning to red once more. 

"Well," Sherlock stated before sifting through the bag of goodies.  "There’s this, for one."  With that, he pulled out a castle just large enough for John to fit inside.  He held it up to the aquarium.  "Where should it go?"

"Back left," John answered, nodding definitively.

Sherlock nodded and plopped it in, watching it slowly sink to the bottom.  ”Alright.  Now…”  He pulled out a toy clam.

"What is that?" John asked, shifted forward.  He tentatively took it out of Sherlock’s hand and began to fiddle with his, his tentacles pulling fervently at it.

"You’re going to break it," Sherlock warned.  Immediately, John dropped it into Sherlock’s hand and pouted again.  ”It’s a bubble maker.”  He picked it back up.  ”Here…  Watch.”  With that, he set it up and held it over the aquarium.  ”Where do you want it?”

"Front right."

Moving his hand accordingly, Sherlock dropped it into the water.  Once it settled at the bottom, he waited.  ”Now…”  It opened and released bubbles.  Immediately, John began to writhe on his hand, his little tentacles flailing wildly.  ”What do you think?  Nice little setup, isn’t it?”

"Actually…"  John slithered up his arms, his suction cups making popping noises all along the way.  It still tickled, and Sherlock bit on his bottom lip to keep from laughing.  "Could I ask for something?"

Sherlock blinked, genuinely surprised by the question.  ”What is it?”

"I want that."  John pointed towards the coffee table.

Turning around, Sherlock’s eyes fixated on the ashtray he had stolen from Buckingham Palace.  ”I… I don’t know if…”

"You said you would quit smoking," John pointed out, his gaze almost accusing.  It arrested Sherlock immediately, although he didn’t feel guilt or shame as most would have.

Sherlock nodded.  ”That I did.”

"So you don’t need it anymore…"

"No, I don’t," Sherlock admitted.  He couldn’t logically argue with that.

Smiling, John continued, “Then it can go into my aquarium.”  Sherlock sighed and retrieved the ashtray.  ”I want it in the centre.  It’s my centrepiece.”

Sherlock plopped it into the aquarium.  John smiled and clapped his hands, looking up at Sherlock with wide, excited eyes.  In that moment, Sherlock knew he would always succumb to that look.  The way John lit up when he was excited was something Sherlock had never experienced before, and the fact that he was the cause of it…  Well, that was more addicting than any drug he had ever tried before.

"And then you’ll have to make sure to keep it clean," Sherlock stated.  He pulled out a toothbrush head, having snapped it off earlier.

John took it in both hands and stared down at it.  ”A… bathtub brush?”

Chuckling, Sherlock shook his head.  Of course John would associated it with baths, seeing as that’s what they used to wash his tiny body.  ”A cleaning brush.  A bathroom brush has the long handle so I can wash you.”

"Oh."  John wiggled about excited.  "Can I get in now?"

"It’ll probably be a bit cold still," Sherlock warned before lowering John to the surface of the water.

Immediately, John plunged into the aquarium, swimming about with the brush clutched to his chest.  Eventually, he placed it into the ashtray before exploring the outside and the inside of his castle.  His tentacles moved as one unit, causing him to swim awkwardly and in puffs.  Secretly, Sherlock found it endearing.  John then swam over to the fake algae that had come with the aquarium, and he fiddled with it, seeing out it felt and moved in the water.

Suddenly, he shot straight for the top of the aquarium and broke the surface of the water before sucking in a deep breath.  "This is the best.  Thank you."

Sherlock nodded in reply before turning around and smiling.  It was nice to be able to make someone happy for once without trying.  He hoped that aspect of John would never change.


	5. OctoJohn: Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OctoJohn's bad dreams reveal his fears.

Sherlock knew John had nightmares despite the fact that John never spoke about them.  Most of the time, John didn’t even remember them once he woke up.  But he had them nearly every night, and no matter how deep in thought he was, Sherlock always snapped to the present for John.

The beginning was always signified by tossing and turning.  Sherlock had bought John a lily pad to sleep on, something that floated but dipped down just enough to keep John’s tentacles wet.  John would flip and flop on the lily pad, trying to get more comfortable.  Usually, Sherlock didn’t notice this stage of the nightmare.

Then John’s tentacles would turn colours, mimicking a blue-ringed octopus.  It was a defense mechanism - something that was supposed to scare away whatever was making John feel afraid.  Of course, it didn’t work as there was no physical threat to John, but he couldn’t know that.  This stage, too, would normally go by unnoticed by Sherlock.

However, as soon as John began to whimper, Sherlock would be ripped out of the deepest, darkest depths of his mind palace.  Before he even would even know what he was doing, he would be on his feet and heading towards the aquarium.

Tonight was no different.  As soon as John let out the smallest squeak, Sherlock was right there.  He hadn’t inked yet, meaning he would soon, so Sherlock carefully scooped him up off the lily pad and held him close.  Shaking and twitching, John’s tentacles fastened around Sherlock’s wrist and fingers as they usually did.  Carefully, Sherlock rolled back his sleeve.  He then carried John over to the sink and held him out over it.

"N-no!  Please!" John whimpered, clenching at Sherlock’s skin.

It pinched him, but he made no noise in protest.  Instead, he shushed John and murmured, “It’s alright.  I’m right here.  You’re safe.”

John let out a soft yelp, one of his tentacles flailing in the air before latching around Sherlock’s little finger.  ”Don’t!  PLEASE!”

"I’ve got you, John," Sherlock murmured, stroking John’s hair with his thumb.

Although he never had confirmation of his suspicions, Sherlock knew that John dreamt about what happened at Baskervilles.  A top secret scientific laboratory that John had to _escape_ from?  They probably poked, prodded, and ran John ragged there, trying to discover anything and everything they could about him.  Honestly, Sherlock didn’t like to think about it too much.  John’s sweet disposition made it easy to forget that the beginning of his life had been in a cage.

"It hurts!  Stop!  It hurts!"

Immediately, John inked onto his hand, marking the height of his fear.  Sherlock said nothing.  Instead, he took a paper towel and cleaned it up as best he could.  John shifted enough for Sherlock to place a folded paper towel underneath him.

Carrying John back over to the sofa, Sherlock laid down and tilted his hand, letting John rest against his chest.  John gripped his shirt in his tiny hands, and Sherlock used his hand to serve as John’s blanket.  Slowly, John calmed down and slept peacefully against Sherlock’s chest.

Sherlock watched him a bit, running his thumb down John’s back.  ”You’re never going back there, John.  I swear to it…”


	6. OctoJohn: Mycroft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OctoJohn meets Mycroft for the first time.

John knew better than to get caught.  Sherlock had warned him enough times to instill that fear into all of his hearts.  Being caught meant being sent back to Baskervilles.  Being sent back to Baskervilles meant more experiments.  After the time John had already spent there, he knew he never wanted to go back.  He would rather die than return there.

So when Sherlock’s brother - Mycroft, if he remembered properly - came over, John gulped in one last breath of outside air before he hunkered down in his castle, making sure to hold his tentacles up so they wouldn’t be seen.  Although the words were distorted through the glass and water, John had had enough practice to understand them.

"An aquarium," Mycroft noted.  "Whatever for, Sherlock?"

"An experiment," Sherlock answered indifferently, not moving.

"I’m sure."  Mycroft walked over - John could feel the vibration of footsteps getting stronger.  "Does this experiment partly have to do with something human perhaps?"

Sherlock’s pause troubled John.  He never paused to say something.  ”Perhaps.”

"And partly to do with some cephalopod parts?"

"Mycroft!"

However, the implied threat came too late.  The castle was lifted up from the floor of his aquarium, and John let out a scream of horror as he realised what was happening.  As soon as he was facing the stranger, he squirted ink at him.  The castle was dropped immediately, and John sprang out of it.  Suddenly, a hand appeared coming towards him, just centimetres off from scooping him out of the air.  He grasped onto it with his tentacles, breaking his fall, as another hand dipped underneath him and helped him up.  The castle clattered onto the hardwood floor, a few chips scattering away from it.

Looking up, John found Sherlock holding him, and he frantically scurried up Sherlock’s arm before slipping down his neck and hiding in his scarf.  Immediately, he changed his tentacles to the same colour before trying to relax.  Here, he was safe.  He knew it.  Sherlock wouldn’t let Mycroft take him away.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft snapped, his voice sharp and firm.  "You  _stole_  an experiment from Baskervilles?”

Sherlock chuckled.  ”I didn’t steal him, actually.  He hitched a ride in my scarf.  I just never returned him.  That’s all.”

"Sherlock, this is breaking numerous laws…" Mycroft began to explain.

"He’s staying with me, Mycroft."

The statement silenced the whole room and put John’s pounding hearts at ease.  Not that he hadn’t know this before, of course, but it was always reassuring to hear.  Curling up in the folds of the scarf, John closed his eyes and rested there.

"Sherlock…"

"There’s no negotiating on this.  I made a promise to him, and he’s staying with me."

John frowned.  He didn’t remember Sherlock making any promise to him, and he wouldn’t have forgotten something so important.

Mycroft replied, “And what if someone finds out about him?”

"No one will.  I keep him hidden when we leave the flat.  No one ever comes over unless they are clients or Mrs Hudson, and she wouldn’t tell a soul."

"She knows about him?"  Mycroft sounded absolutely appalled by the notion.

Sherlock nodded.  ”Of course she does.  I was breaking her no pet policy.  She was bound to find out.”

"I’m not a pet!" John managed to object.

"Shush," Sherlock chastised.  "But there will be no issue, Mycroft.  I will keep him hidden from the world.  No one else will find out about his existence beyond me, you, and Mrs Hudson."

There was a long, tense pause, and John could feel them facing each other off.  Challenging one another.  Seeing who would break first.

"Fine," Mycroft finally complied.  John was shocked.  "But if  _anyone_ , and I mean  _anyone_ , finds out about that thing-“

"John," Sherlock corrected.

"What?"

"His name is John," Sherlock explained.

Scoffing, Mycroft continued, “Very well.  If anyone finds out about John, I will personally see to it myself that he is sent right back to Baskervilles.  Am I understood?”

"Perfectly," Sherlock responded icily.  "Now, leave.  I have work to do."

"Very well.  I’ll be keeping tabs on you, Sherlock.  And don’t forget to call Mummy tomorrow.  It’s her birthday."  With that, Mycroft left without so much as another word.

Subconsciously, John relaxed into the scarf and let out a long breath.  ”Thank you.”

"It was nothing.  Do you want to get out now?"

"No.  I’ll stay a bit longer."  With that, John let his eyes slip shut before gradually drifting to sleep, warm and safe.


	7. OctoJohn: Jacuzzi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OctoJohn relaxes in a homemade jacuzzi.
> 
> Note: many people pointed out that such a jacuzzi could not actually happen without hurting John, to which I reply: he's an experiment. He can withstand things normal humans and octopi cannot. Have no fear - he's alright.

"Sherlock, I’m done!" John exclaimed, holding up his scrubbing brush.

John’s aquarium was the cleanest thing in the flat by far, and John took pride in that.  His home was the second most important thing in his life, just after Sherlock.  Without a doubt, he always wanted to make sure that it was clean and sparkling new.  Especially since Sherlock took the time to get him a brand new castle as well as a few more accessories

One included a toy orca whale attached to a buoy that bobbed up and down in the water.  John had named it Willy, after the movie that Sherlock let him watch, and treated it as if it were a real creature living with him.  However, John would sometimes see how far he could pull it underneath the water before letting it shoot back up to the surface.

"Flawless timing, John," Sherlock stated, walking over and holding out a hand.  "I have a surprise for you."

Curious, John slithered onto the hand and stared up at him.  ”What is it?”

"What is the definition of a surprise, John?" Sherlock prompted.

"Noun.  An unexpected or astonishing event, fact, or thing."

Sherlock had a tendency to drill him on the definitions of words he didn’t know.  After a couple of issues with communication, Sherlock set a book out on the coffee table so John could look up words he didn’t understand and commit the meaning to memory.

Sherlock nodded.  ”Which tells you what?”

"That you’re not going to tell me what it is."

"Very good.  Now close your eyes.  No peeking," Sherlock replied.

Covering his face with his hands, John heard the rolling of bubbles.  He tilted his head and fought the temptation to sneak a glance.  Impatiently, he drummed his tentacles against Sherlock’s hand.  Although Sherlock clucked his tongue in disapproval, he said nothing about it.

Suddenly, John felt warmth wash over him.  A humid warmth.  Water.  Bubbles.  Confused, he tilted his little head to the side.  Then his tentacle touched something warm, and he let out a squeak of surprise, inking into Sherlock’s hand.

"John!" Sherlock scolded.

"S-sorry!  I don’t do well with surprises," John replied.

Tutting, Sherlock responded, “Then open your eyes.”

John opened them to find that he was over a boiling pot that was on a bunsen burner.  ”Wh-what…?”

"It’s a jacuzzi bath," Sherlock stated, lifting John up with his other hand and slowly lowering him into it.  "Humans take jacuzzi baths to relax and rejuvenate.  Although I believe it’s absolute rubbish, I thought you might enjoy it."

The bubbles caused John to giggle as they rippled around his body.  Spreading out his tentacles, he felt himself start to float on them before they managed to escape to the surface.  This was nice.  Smiling, he swam over to the side of the pot and gazed up at Sherlock, who was working on another experiment again.  He was closer now than ever before, right next to him.  Within Sherlock’s reach, should he so choose.  And it was remarkably lovely to be that close.  Safe, in a way.  Smiling, John dipped a bit lower in the water, moaning as he felt the warmth surround him.  He relaxed and let himself float.

If all his surprises were like this, he could definitely get used to them.


	8. OctoJohn: BatJohn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OctoJohn hears about BatJohn for the first time.

"Mycroft told me something interesting today," Sherlock stated.

John looked up from his painting - Sherlock had just taught him what paint was and how to use it.  It was fun dipping his tentacles in and then making perfect circles all across a sheet of paper.  One of these days, he would take it seriously, but until then, he was more than content with rolling around in paint.

Softly, John pointed out, “Mycroft is not to be trusted.”

Sherlock chortled.  ”That’s a very good observation, but what’s your reasoning behind it.”

"He carries an umbrella," John answered.

"Pardon?"

"He carries an umbrella!  To shield himself from the rain.  Which is water.  Anyone who doesn’t like water shouldn’t be trusted," he explained.

Sherlock chuckled, although John wasn’t sure why.  It was sound logic, after all.  ”In any case, he informed me today that you have a brother of sorts.”

Eyes widening, John stared at Sherlock in awe.  ”What?  Really?”  Quickly, he skittered across the sheet, about to clamber up Sherlock’s arm, wen he remembered the paint.  He wasn’t allowed off the paper when he was covered in paint.  Stopping sharply, he toppled over himself and landed with a  _thud_.  ”W-who is it?”

"Well, he’s like you, only part-bat."  Sherlock carefully lifted John up and set him in the sink before turning on the water and stopping the drain.  "He flies about and causes most of the scientists trouble.  Mycroft thought it might be helpful if he came here to stay for a bit."

John began to clap his hands happily.  ”Does he have a name?” he pressed.

"No, I don’t think so."

"Could we name him after me?" John quickly inquired, looking up at Sherlock with wide, hopeful eyes.

Scoffing, Sherlock replied, “You want to name the bat ‘John’ as well?”

"It’s a nice name!"

He shook his head.  ”How would I be able to specify which one of you I wanted?”

John frowned and folded his arms, thinking.  His brows furrowed, and he hummed to himself.  Suddenly, it hit him.  ”You can call him BatJohn!” he exclaimed.

"BatJohn?" Sherlock echoed.

"Yes!  BatJohn!  And I could be OctoJohn while he’s here!  It’s perfect!  Please, Sherlock,  _please_  could we name him after me?”

Sherlock shook his head and sighed.  ”I don’t see why not,” he finally answered.  ”BatJohn it is then.  Let’s just hope he likes it.”

"There’s no way he’s not going to.  John is the best name to have!"


	9. OctoJohn: Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous requested, "I'd love to see more OctoJohn!"
> 
> OctoJohn wanting to have some company whilst Sherlock is away.

John liked swimming in his aquarium just fine, but sometimes it got a bit boring.  Sure, Sherlock would surprise him every now and again with something - usually something taken from a crime scene - that he could add to his collection, but it just wasn’t the same.  Honestly, and John would never admit this to Sherlock, but he was lonely at points, having no friends to be with him.  But how could he bring this up?  Sherlock had been nothing but accommodating for him, especially since he just popped out of the blue.

Scrubbing his fake pearl, which Sherlock had used to deduce the last case he solved, with his toothbrush head, John stared at his own reflection a bit.  And then he felt the vibration of Sherlock’s feet on the staircase.  They were stronger than Mrs Hudson’s.  John swam to the top of his tank and crawled out, sticking to the side of it and holding out his arms.

Sherlock instinctively reached down and scooped John up.  Hugging Sherlock’s thumb, John smiled and felt himself be shifted up.  As soon as he could, he plopped down onto Sherlock’s shoulder.

"Did you solve it?"

"Of course I solved it," Sherlock chided before heading over and turning on the kettle.  "It was the mother.  Fairly obvious and straightforward."

John nodded before sticking one of his tentacles to Sherlock’s neck and popping it off.  Quickly, he repeated the motion until Sherlock began giggling.

"Stop it!" he barely managed to order.

John laughed as well before stopping.  ”I missed you,” he whispered.  ”I- I was wondering - well, since you’ve been leaving me home often recently - if maybe you could… I don’t know… give me some friends?”  He grimaced just after he finished the sentence.  Selfish!  ”I-I-I mean, I am grateful for everything you’ve done, you see, but it’s just that sometimes it might be nice for me-“

"John," Sherlock cut in before looking down at him.  "Look, other sea creatures aren’t like Flounder and Sebastian.  They’re not intelligent in the sense that you are.  You wouldn’t be able to hold a conversation with them.  They wouldn’t be your pet.  They’d probably just be terrified of you."

Slumping, John nodded.  ”I figured it was too much to ask.”

Sherlock poured some of the hot water into the mug, and John shifted down his arm before diving into it.  He popped his head out and reached up to take the teabag.

Once it was underneath him, with John floating on it, Sherlock stated, “I just think you’re expecting something unrealistic.  Like you’re going to be able to train your fish like a dog.  Or be able to talk to it.  I think the best entertainment that you’ll get is chasing it from corner to corner.”

"Yeah, I know," John mumbled.  "Isn’t there anything, though?"

Sherlock paused a moment.  ”I suppose we could try something small.  Something you could take care of.  Have you ever heard of a  _tamagotchi_?”

"No.  What’s that?" John pressed.

Grinning, Sherlock replied, “A small device that has a creature inside of it for you to take care of.”

John’s eyes widened.  ”Would it swim?”

"It couldn’t swim with you, but I might be able to find one that does."

"Yay!" John exclaimed, clapping his hands.  "When do I get it?"

Sherlock smiled.  ”As soon as I’m done with my tea.  Promise.”


	10. OctoJohn: Illness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous requested, "sick!OctoJohn and sick Sherlock in the OctoJohn AU. If you don't want to do both, I'd prefer sick!OctoJohn please."

John never got sick.  He would see it in movies - people who ran fevers and had headaches - but he never experienced it himself.  That was until he accidentally ate part of Sherlock’s experiment.  Six hours later, he felt like his belly was going to pop, but he remained silent because he didn’t want to make Sherlock mad.  Minutes ticked by like hours as he sat in his teacup, trying to remain quiet.

"Sherlock," he groaned, finally unable to take the pain silently.

Sherlock heard his tiny plea, and his head snapped up.  Walking over, he scooped John up tenderly.  ”Heavy breathing, brow pulled together in pain, hands on stomach.  You’re sick.”

"IatepartofyourexperimentbecauseIwashungryandyouweren’thome.  I’msosorry," John rambled.

Sighing, Sherlock walked over to the aquarium and laid John down on the top of the water.  ”Float there,” he ordered before heading off.

John did as told, especially since the position took some pressure off his stomach.  He listened to the sound of the filter as it cycled the water, the repetitive noise pleasing to his ears.  Suddenly, Sherlocks hand was underneath him again, and he was lifted out of the water.  Groaning, John felt himself moved to the bathroom, and he was placed in the tub.  This water was warm, and John groaned as he sank into it.  Floating just above the surface, he cracked open one eye and smiled up at Sherlock.  Carefully, he reached out a tentacle and wrapped it around Sherlock’s index finger, holding onto him so he wouldn’t float away and so he wouldn’t be left alone.

If it bothered Sherlock, he said nothing.  John floated for a while before Sherlock picked him up again and dried him off in a hand towel.  Honestly, John hated to be dry - Sherlock knew this - but he felt too sick to complain.  After he was wrapped up in the towel, Sherlock brought him back into the living room.  With one finger, he rubbed John’s belly gently in circular patterns.

"I don’t like feeling sick," John complained, wrapping his tentacles around the other fingers.

"Only people with Münchausen syndrome do," Sherlock commented.

John tilted his head.  ”What’s that?”

"Never mind," Sherlock murmured.  "You’ll feel better once the toxins are expelled from your body."

Relaxing back into the soft fabric of the towel, John hummed and just paid attention to Sherlock's finger as it went around and around and around.  John began to doze off when he heard Sherlock’s mobile ring.

"Mycroft," he greeted curtly.  "Are you positive he can take those?"  He paused a moment.  "Fine.  But if his condition worsens, I’ll put you through Hell."

Moments later, John felt something pressed to his lips.  It was a piece of something larger - a pill, perhaps - and he munched on it carefully before finally passing out.

By the time he woke back up, he was back in his aquarium and feeling fine.  Part of him wondered if maybe he had dreamt it all - that is, until he snuck into the fridge and noticed that all of the experiments were now labeled.


	11. OctoJohn: Jim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MischiefJoker requested, "Octojohn sounds adorable?? Jim steals him from Sherlock?"

Sherlock was out working another case when it happened.  John had been happily swimming about his aquarium when he felt footsteps on the stairs.  Lighter than Sherlock’s but heavier than Mrs Hudson.  Scared a client may be trespassing, John scrambled out of the aquarium.  Sherlock had set up an emergency hiding spot underneath the kitchen sink.  Scrambling across the floor, John used his strong tentacles to get the door open.  He then climbed up the side of a bucket and plopped into the water inside.  Reaching out a tentacle, he managed to close the cabinet door just as the flat door opened.

Sinking down into the water, John remained perfectly still, having suctioned his tentacles to the sides of the bucket for support, and changed his colours to warn that he was poisonous.  He listened as polished shoes clicked across the floor.  Whoever was in their flat definitely wasn’t supposed to be there.

John’s fear and paranoia heightened his senses as he listened to the intruder shuffle through some papers on the table and then walk several paces.  There was a tap on the aquarium glass, and it was clear that whoever it was was probably trying to figure out what it was being used for.  Swallowing hard, John sank lower into his bucket.

Suddenly, the steps started to get closer, and John sank down into the water, hoping to hide himself as the cabinet door opened.  A hand reached in and grabbed his bucket before dragging it out.  Breaking the surface of the water, John bit down quickly on the intruder’s hand before flinging himself out of the bucket and towards the table.  Mid-air, he was caught.

"This is new," an Irish voice crooned out.  "Hello, little one.  You’re an interesting pet to have, aren’t you?"

"I’m not a pet!" John snapped, struggling against the intruder.  "Let me go or I’ll poison you!"

"You would have already if you could instead of biting me as you did.  That hurt, by the way.  I should punish you for it."

John squeaked when he felt the hand tighten around his tiny body.  ”Let me go!”

"I think I would rather not," the intruder stated.  "I think, actually, that I should have some fun with you.  Tell me, do you like pools?"

John swallowed hard, not sure if he should answer that.  ”I-I like to swim.”

"Good.  I think I should take you to a pool then.  Just the two of us.  Sherlock will join us later - he’s already sent me the invitation."

With that, the intruder plopped John back into his bucket before carrying it out of the flat.  John was terrified, but he knew Sherlock would come.  Sherlock always came.


	12. StarJohn: Forbidden Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> StarJohn comes to understand that one cannot just say every word known to man.

Having opened it earlier, John sat in the window and stared up at the moon.  His blue eyes twinkled in the moonlight, and he softened his glow.

"John?" Sherlock called out groggily.

Looking back at him, John hummed in reply.

"What’s wrong?"

"Who said anything was wrong?" John inquired.

Sherlock smirked.  ”You never gaze at the moon and stars unless you need comforting.  What’s wrong?”

"I was just thinking about that pregnant bitch we saw today," John responded.

Sherlock choked on air.  ”Wh-what?”

"The bitch.  Pregnant with puppies," John responded.

"O-oh!  The dog!" Sherlock replied.  "John, you can’t just say things like that.  Adults don’t like it.  And neither does Mycroft."

Confused, John made a face.  ”Things like what?”

"You can’t call anything a… b-word anymore," Sherlock whispered, glancing around.

"Bitch?"

Sherlock shushed him.  ”It’s a bad word, John.”

"B-but it’s a word," John pointed out.  "And it’s the correct word for female dog, right?"

"Well, yes…"

"So why can’t I use it?" John pressed.

Sherlock frowned.  ”Because it’s a bad word.”

Frowning right back at him, John pressed his lips together.  ”So… let me get this straight: humans have created words that they are forbidden to say.”

"W-well… I suppose so."

"How utterly ludicrous," John exclaimed, shaking his head.  Gold dust flung from his hair, glittering to the ground.  "Humans really make no sense at all.  Why create the words then if you’re not allowed to say them?  What’s the point of their existence?"

"What’s the point of  _your_  existence?” Sherlock muttered bitterly.

John stuck his tongue out at him.  ”We both know that answer.”

"In any case, we need those words.  Sometimes, you need a forbidden word in order to convey your feelings about something.  It’s not enough to say someone is bad.  You have to say that they’re…"  He lowered his voice to a whisper.  "… an arsehole."

Giggling, John glowed a bit brighter as he hopped down.  ”I just think it’s silly.  Words you’re not allowed to use but that you know.  Humans are silly.”

"We are not!" Sherlock replied before ruffling John’s hair, sending more dust flying.

John grinned up at him, eyes sparkling.  ”Are, too!”

"Are not!"

"Are, too!"

Nudging John, Sherlock pressed, “Why were you thinking about the dog?”

John’s light immediately dimmed, and he averted his eyes.  ”She hasn’t even had the puppies yet, and she loves them a lot.  You can tell just from looking at her.  But… well… I don’t have a mum.  No one’s ever going to look at me like that.  Or feel that way about me.  That sort of unconditional love…”

Sherlock’s heart dropped as he heard that.  ”Oh, John,” he whispered.  ”That’s not true.  I…”  His voice trailed off, unable to go on.

"More forbidden words?" John inquired.

Sherlock offered him a smile.  ”In a way,” he responded before taking John’s hand.  ”How about we dance?”

"Sure," John responded before positioning himself accordingly.  He enjoyed dancing with Sherlock.  It always made him shine brightly.

Leading John through the dance, Sherlock hummed softly to himself.  John lost himself in the movements.  Slowly, he began to shine brighter until the entire room was lit by his happiness.  Sherlock and he began to giggle once their dance came to an end, and now, John understood exactly what Sherlock wanted to say to him earlier.

**Author's Note:**

> Do not copy/duplicate.


End file.
